


two times the high

by xcaligulas



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Dirty Talk, Dissociation, Drugged Sex, Hallucinogens, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29196222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xcaligulas/pseuds/xcaligulas
Summary: Getting sick of solitary confinement and dissociation apparently does a lot to his better judgment, because this is possibly the most interesting thing he's had a chance to do in perigees.Even if it is completely batshit insane.It's kind of fun like that, he has to admit.
Relationships: Eridan Ampora/Sollux Captor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	two times the high

**Author's Note:**

> i dont rly write oneshots but. here you go! this is only mildly dubious consent bc there was no agreement to sex before drugs were taken, so just keep that in mind! enjoy (:
> 
> may be reformatted/revised later!

Being alone was never something that Sollux struggled with.

Nothing was more rewarding than uninterrupted solitude. No obligation to peel himself away from his idle pastimes of keyboards and the glow of monitors, no social expectations, no demands- just a comfortable isolation, surrounded by those dark, dingy walls and a litany of clutter. The buzz in his pan was welcomed by now in his space, crackling like unchecked radio static, a soothing white noise to numb the roll of thoughts flickering in and out of his ever-churning mind.

Not once had Sollux bemoaned his choices. In fact, he'd consistently shoved away offers of interaction outside his apartmenthive in favor of drowning himself in lines of code, another game he'd poured countless hours into, or pawing through vague information on the internet for some sort of entertainment to keep his mind alive. His friends weren't pleased. Of course, he didn’t care. 

It wasn't anyone's business how he kept himself occupied. 

It was almost ritualistic, his schedule- nothing of it was anything he did because he _enjoyed_ it, but simply because if there wasn't a routine that the psion followed staunchly, he knew that his thoughts would veer off the tracks and plummet into a cavern of morbidity. It's happened before. He's been there, drowning in the coiling shadows of the mental abyss. Far too many times. 

Enough times that the thought alone makes Sollux’s stomach churn.

The buzz had grown louder, as of late. More stifling. A burning haze, noxious and toxic and suffocating, and no matter _how_ many times he redoubled his efforts to pour his mental energy into endless lines of code, his mind was still on fire. It comes to him, on this particular day, the realization that he's slipping again, when his husktop dings with the unmistakable sound of messages rolling in from Trollian.

At first, Sollux chooses to ignore it. His fixated gaze on the screen and strained eyes and sore fingers falter for long enough for him to wonder _why_ he's being bothered at such an absurd fucking hour. A glance at the time in the bottom corner of the screen indicates it's the middle of the day.

Who? And more importantly why? 

So maybe it bothers him a little, but with no intention to peel himself from his project yet, Sollux’s fingers resume their adamant punch into the keys and text appearing on the screen calms his nerves enough that he gets into the groove again. In the back of his head he decides that it's probably Karkat grousing about something or other and likely isn't desperately urgent, and with that, his attention focuses again on his work. 

But it doesn't last for long, the focus. It can't- there's no _feasible_ fucking way that when the pinging messages pick up again that the sound can be brushed off a second time. It scratches at the walls of his conscious like nails on a chalkboard, grating, and his head hurts, everything is a blur and if he doesn't bash his skull into the keyboard in half a second from now he deserves to win the fucking peace prize.

Sollux groans, and his fingers finally lift from the keyboard, a hand navigating the mouse to click open the Trollian chat window and see who the fuck it is and _why,_ and he certainly expected it to be Karkat. He's always fussing- checking to see if he's eaten. Showered. Slept. General run of the mill nonsense that he couldn't be assed to understand the motive behind.

Purple is certainly not what he'd expected to lay his eyes on today.

 _Eridan._ That's a name that hasn't crossed his mind in weeks, now. They're not exactly the chummiest out of all his acquaintances. The guy drives him up the fucking wall- sometimes entertainingly so, when his mood shifts and he's craving that intense high. 

But when there's this dissociative fugue hanging in his mind like a blanket of heavy fog, it's hard to determine how he feels about the barrage of messages. Or speaking to the seadweller in general at this moment. Not something he's got the clarity to fully parse out.

His eyes scan the violet lettering, hands poised again over the keys in a readiness to respond.

CA: hey are you there

CA: captor

CA: i seriously aint got the patience to wwait a fuckin millennia for you to glorify me wwith the response i CLEARLY fuckin deservve

CA: answwer me

CA: noww

Annoyance is certainly the first thing he identifies, here, toiling in his gut with an irritated prickle.

TA: don't act 2o entiitled, ii wa2 workiing on 2omethiing. 

TA: what do you even need at thii2 hour?

TA: you haven't talked two me iin week2.

CA: your participation in an experiment 

CA: specifically you

His fingers halt atop the keys, and Sollux stares at those words on the screen for a long, long while. Something about that doesn't settle quite right in his pan- beyond the fact that this guy _certainly_ can concoct some nefarious schemes if he really wanted. It's not something he would put past Eridan by any means.

But above the static, he's intrigued. A flicker of interest.

Maybe it's because he's realized he is getting lonely. Or it's because he needs excitement. 

TA: ii'm lii2teniing.

CA: howw do you feel about drugs

CA: specifically hallucinogens

TA: what?

That certainly wasn't what he had expected to read. Eridan doesn't seem the type- especially a blatant invitation, clear as day, for Sollux to get involved in his fucked up habits. Soliciting him into illicit substance usage? He swears he got smacked back out of a daze, if only momentarily. 

CA: you heard me

TA: uh.

TA: ii haven't done anythiing liike that before. 

TA: heariing the iinfernal 2creamiing of the doomed on a niigh con2tant ba2ii2 diidn't really contriibute two an appeal for that kiind of 2hiit.

CA: just say you aint fuckin interested if youre that pressed ovver the notion

TA: ii don't know why you want me two 2o bad.

TA: but you know what, ii'll try iit. why the fuck not.

CA: wwell then that wwas a hell of a lotta strife for fuckin nothin

CA: come ovver

Sollux doesn't seem to really process what he's gotten himself into. Hell, he hasn't entirely gotten to the bottom of why his agreement came so quick to Eridan’s weird offering, but something about drowning out this unpleasant fog and settling despair in monotonous solitude sounds _fantastic._ Too good to be true.

As the gold peels himself from his desk and avoids the detritus of various trash and other miscellaneous objects covering the floor like a minefield and readies himself to head over to Eridan’s hive, he can't stop wondering if he's gotten himself into some sort of dubious scenario. What kind of drugs is this guy talking about, anyways? Just how fucked up are we talking, here? Questions that should have been posed during the thick of it all, but what with how much he is itching to escape his problems, Sollux is finding the semantics unimportant. 

Little time is spent on his appearance beyond getting dressed in lazy attire and donning shoes, and once his palmhusk is retrieved, he's on his way to the transportalizer at the bottom of the hivestem. Eridan so graciously sent the coordinates to the one stationed in his own hive, which avoids any sort of run-in with the sun (there’s no way he was intending to step foot into that), and it doesn't take long for his form to flicker and materialize again in the violet's abode.

He hasn't been here many times before, so really, it's a wonder that with how distracted and disoriented he is that he manages to find his way down the hall from the foyer to the main block of the shipwreck hive. Everything is wood; something old, rustic and worn by countless sweeps of water and other weathering, and he finds the tacky decor of countless statues, paintings, and other odd art pieces that scream highblood tacky to be an unpleasant assault on the eyes. It's very theatrical; something about the place feels like the set to some troll Shakespearean play. Sollux tries not to roll his eyes, but as soon as he's in the main block, he catches sight of Eridan, stationed casually on a lounge against the back wall, surrounded by bookshelves.

"So, you didn't back out." It's stated simply, matter of factly from his spot on the furniture even as Sollux approaches with a distant trudge. "Color me impressed. I didn't figure you had it in you, Sol."

Sitting down already, he finds himself relishing in one thing this place has to offer, and that is how _sinfully_ comfortable these cushions were. Upholstery was not something he was actively aware could be so plush. "It's a little fucking weird of you, but I'm not going to delve too deep and question why the hell you even want to get me fucked up in the first place." His lisping words come out quick as eyes scan about, settling to the low table in front of them both. There's very obviously some sort of tablets on the table and _two_ glasses of something amber in color poured, like it was prepared. "Should I ask? You're not poisoning me, are you."

There's a scoff, haughty as ever. Eridan himself shifts, capeless today and hair undone, shifting in a violet curtain across his forehead, to reach for one of the glasses to grasp in ringed hands. One of the pills is pulled off the table, right into his hand. "A' course I ain't fuckin' poisonin' you, that would defeat the overachin' purpose of an experiment. Don't be a fool." 

As if to prove a point, as Sollux’s eyes drift from the table to follow Eridan’s motions, bicolored eyes fixate as he places the white tablet on his tongue and the glass is brought to his lips, a healthy gulp of the liquid drained from the glass. He can't help that his brows shoot up. 

Nothing was mentioned about them _both_ getting high off their respective asses.

But hey. He reaches out those spindly fingers of his to follow the motion. There's no denying he's interested in loosening up now, and there’s no way he intends to be here to tripsit sober. "There was nothing mentioned on the itinerary that detailed you were also making some stupid fucking choices, Ampora."

"If I'd started it off with that, you wouldn't have been so quick to agree, would you?" 

Sollux looks at the pill in his hand. It's not that big- a little powdery. It's pressed to a hold between two fingers as he lifts it. "Yeah, no. I wouldn't have." It's swallowed down with a gulp of the drink that _after_ it burns he realizes was certainly some sort of whiskey. 

This whole situation is strange. Sollux hadn't anticipated at the start of daybreak he'd wind up in Eridan’s hive, taking pills of unknown constitution and washing it down with fucking _alcohol._ But getting sick of solitary confinement and dissociation apparently does a lot to his better judgment, because this is possibly the most interesting thing he's had a chance to do in perigees.

Even if it is completely batshit insane.

It's kind of fun like that, he has to admit.

The conversation Eridan strikes up as they nurse sips of their drinks is surprisingly nonchalant compared to his usual aggravated bullshit, and Sollux notices. It's strange, and although it's not unwelcome at the moment to have casual small talk, he certainly hadn't anticipated it.

Or the way he notices, with his eyes studying Eridan’s position and gaze, that the seadweller's sharp, painted eyes have been sliding all over him like a smear of oil, shimmery and smooth.

"You're- staring." It breaks a silence that had settled for a minute as there is this heady wash of warm engulfing Sollux’s frame- it doesn't come out with the same preciseness and assertion as the thought had rang out in his head, echoing, and it starts to dawn on him that whatever he just took is hitting him fast. Eridan’s gaze seems magnetized to him, like there's some sort of field between them- Sollux's words are distantly forgotten shortly after they're spoken.

Melting, it feels like. In a way that’s not frightening or unsettling, but almost as if his pan was being gently stretched apart like putty, elastic and malleable, and the room is taking on this pleasant wave. A subtle wobble, almost imperceptible, but it was something he could _sense._ Feel, almost. 

Eridan’s words are so watery to his ears right now. Liquidlike. Flowing.

"It's hard not to look at you when we're talkin'." It's said sensibly- and the glass he was holding is set down onto the table. Sollux watches, and as much as he probably should peel his gaze away, he's mesmerized by the seadweller's movements, now. He noticed that a particular glance invoked a fluttery, fluid wave of those earfins of Eridan’s.

They're almost like butterflies.

"How do you feel? You're lookin' awfully dazed, Captor." 

He is, he thinks. However, he doesn't mind as he shifts in his position, melting a bit further into the arm of the couch. "Flowy, in a way." His words almost sound foreign, like they're not spoken by him- Sollux’s pan is floating. Eridan’s eyes are piercing. "Made more sense in my head."

"I want to see somethin'." It's vigorously insistent, and that gaze has an intensity to it the psion can't place. It's compelling. "Come here." Eridan gestures with a hand towards himself, and before Sollux really can process why he should, it just seems _right,_ his body is moving to shift across the couch over to the other.

It happens fast- so much so that his world is spinning in a kaleidoscope of color, red blue and violet and hues of other lesser intensities and his head feels like it was submerged in water- the weight of being pressed into softness that seems infinitesimal by a frame that Sollux distantly knows is Eridan’s is a shock to his whole world. His eyes have a hard time refocusing when there's swirling and ebbing visualizing in them, but there’s this echoing ring of words into his ears, so close to them, his arms pushed, up, further up, above his head and he's anchored-

"I'm goin' to touch you." 

_Oh._

Even in his shift from reality into something far higher, that settles into Sollux's pan with a click that makes him forget what breathing is. His eyes close and there's this ghost of cold breath creeping in an icy fractal to his very core along the shell of his ear, and the sensation that crawls along his skin is unlike anything he’s ever felt. There's no processing that this was totally not fucking anticipated and with Eridan of all people- in this moment he's _drowning_ in a sudden pool of heady that he never knew he would fall into.

"Oh." It's just as shaky and wavered as it was probably expected to be, when Sollux manages that much, pressed into the couch with Eridan above him and there’s the distant ebb and curl of a static pleasured wave through his system when hips shift above his to readjust, and there’s a cold, _cold_ wetness of tongue curving against his neck and into his pulse like Eridan could lick right into it. 

The cold extends further, burning on his heated skin but it's perfectly otherworldly, so visceral, when they slide under his shirt, rubbing over grubscars, massaging with an insistence Sollux can sense and fuck, he's soaring into peaks of sensation that he doesn't have words for in any language. There's a gasp, shaky, shuddering from him, spilling past his lips. "You want me to touch you. Tear you to down to fuckin' pieces in my hands." It's lilted, smooth. Honeyed.

The groan that bubbles up from him at that is desirous. "Fuck- yeah. Yes." It's not as pretty and coherent as those entrancing, gorgeous words of Eridan’s, and they're even more sloppy and needy when there's a prick of nails along his sides. 

Nerves, his nerves are sparkling with a bubbling energy, alive and volatile and it's _perfect._

"Take me apart." 

It's so shameless.

It doesn't seem to take much to convince the seadweller to give Sollux exactly what he wanted to take- an assortment of chilly kisses, openmouthed, tonguing with some grazes of teeth are showered upon Sollux’s throat like worship, and it feels so sensual he's certain it's all a hallucination even as those perfect hands slide down to his hips, squeeze, grope. His thighs seem to be a spot Eridan focuses extra energy onto, nails tracing along them with a barrier of fabric to muffle the curling tingle through Sollux’s system, and a hand trails up between his legs against the front of those jeans to palm in a rocking motion against the gold's nook.

It doesn't even register with Sollux that the whorish, heady moan came from him as a hand blindly finds its way up to curve against Eridan’s back, gripping as some anchor, and his hips grind in a desperate motion against the press. There's no thought behind it, just instinctive _need,_ because god, he is falling into Eridan. "You're already so depraved, losin' yourself to the heat like this. You're just senselessly lettin' me do whatever I want to you."

"I'm- it just feels right-" Gasped. Broken. There's only a more needy groan as Eridan creeps that hand up to the front of the jeans, and the zipper and fly are undone with a quick haste so cold fingers can plunge past to drag his touch over the mound of the gold's aching, dampened nethers, just a cover of briefs serving as a guard between touch. His hips buck into the hand- Eridan’s hand was _meant_ to touch him. "Feels so f-fucking right."

"You need me, don't you, Sol." 

There's a whine that can't be muffled as his head turns to press into the sofa, and everything is buzzing, his body, his essence, vibrating with a sudden flowing trickle of untapped pure energy, hot and white and real. Fingers are dragging a line across his nook through the sticky fabric, and he's spinning. "Shit-"

There's a rumble from Eridan against his jaw, possessive. "You _need_ me to make you feel like this." It's not a question- the authority it's spoken with gives him the sense that it's an inarguable fact. Universal truth. His body is a live wire, needing to reconnect to a current.

"Yes, I need it," Comes the breathless words, and when he feels the cold digits retracting and pulling away and Eridan shifting everything seems to spiral harder and there’s this momentary settle of a weight so heavy that it burns in his stomach in loss. His eyes crack open, and when he does, the sight of those gemlike, lidded purple eyes staring back down are so fucking captivating it _hurts._

Before he can question, lips parting in a breath as his bicolored orbs settle and drink in those eyes, pants and briefs are tugged off of him. They're tossed somewhere and Sollux doesn't stop to think about it, or how exposed he is, how his sheathe is aching and gold and dilating to allow twin peaks of writhing gold to peek out- the thing that rouses his attention is the sound of a zipper.

He hardly manages to prop himself up enough sturdily, but when his gaze, still rolling with these patterned visualizations and wavering perceptions like running water, settles on a curl of violet, moist and pretty, Sollux distantly realizes that's Eridan’s bulge. 

Huh. This really is happening, isn't it?

There's a zing of arousal shooting straight to the root of his nook as soon as it dawns on his warped pan, and it doesn't even occur to him that maybe this is wrong while fucked up. Maybe they shouldn't. Probably would be wise to revisit this when his brain matter isn't practically liquefying, but every sensation is amplified and all he can think about is this aching burn in his pelvis.

His legs are maneuvered with a bit of a manhandle, pushed up to display the gold-slicked folds and bulges curling out of his sheathe in full, unobstructed glory for Eridan to appreciate, and with his gaze settling between Sollux’s legs momentarily, thighs shoved all the way up to his chest, Sollux can tell it does _something_ to him. "You're drippin' like a goddamn faucet for me already." There's the shift of hips, and Sollux’s hazy, confused eyes blink in shock momentarily as he feels the enticingly slick slide of the thick, cool appendage right against his _aching_ nook, and fuck, he's nearly drooling, now. His eyes flutter to half mast. "Lookin' like a fuckin' slut, all ready for me to use you." 

When the violet appendage, perfect, icy and dripping, is pressing in a curl right past the squeeze of Sollux’s entrance before he can say a thing about slowing down, his entire frame tenses like a rubber band stretched further than it could feasibly handle. It's been a long time since anything has been in his nook to begin with, and when everything feels so distantly weightless and intense and sparkling, Sollux is forgetting any of his doubts as the bulge is sinking into his tight, hot, slick hole. " _Oh-"_ He gasps, a sharp moan uttered, clipped. 

"Fuck, Sol, you're _tight._ " Eridan’s groaning these lascivious noises that are musical to Sollux’s ears as he buries himself in deep, the stretch to his nook absolutely heavenly. It might be enough to hurt at such a hurried pace were he in a clearer state, but the only thing he can feel is a hot, warm wave of pleasure raking through his frame as those hips of the seadweller's pull back enough to slam forward punishingly.

As the pace picks up into a rough, quick one like the other is chasing his own release and using him like a toy to needily rut into, Sollux’s head falls back again and he's dropping back into the cushions, one hand haphazardly tossed over his forehead as the other reaches down to his bulges, the brutal slams of Eridan’s hips rocking his wiry body like a dinky boat struggling on roaring waves. Fingers curve around them to squeeze, and stars dance behind his eyes, twinkling and effervescent. "Eridan-" It's all he can manage, pleasure writhing in his stomach.

He's not going to last long.

It's no different of a case for Eridan, who's driving himself into the gold like he's chasing the finish line- his hips stutter here and there, a cacophony of noises spilling out of him like a stream of desire, and Sollux _loves_ it, responding in turn with those loud, punctuated cries of his as he's rammed into beautiful oblivion. 

Drowning in it, he's not sure how long it lasts, how many seconds, how many minutes it was that he was ravaged senselessly, but there was no need to focus on anything but the blossoms behind his closed eyes and the rake of that bulge into him. A particular thrust, rocking deep against the furthest depth of his nook with a harsh slam, curving into everything he could have dreamed of being touched, has him cracking at the seams.

There's a sharp, hoarse cry erupting past those lips of his he hadn't noticed he was biting so hard, crying out the seadweller's name, bulges throbbing into his hands before he's spilling. Sollux’s nook is an unforgiving clamp of a vice around the intrusion fucking him, gushing a harsh ooze of gold around the violet stretching him beyond full as there's a fountain of the ochre hue from those appendages in his hands, every fibre of his being throbbing with the most intense, shaking climax he's ever had. 

His thighs hurt and have deep, yellow crescents from how the other's nails dug in chasing his orgasm, but they're released as Eridan’s peak slams home right after the psion's in a wonderfully timed tandem, cool, viscous material jettisoning deep into Sollux's abused nook with a wanton groan. They're both panting, and there’s a few more lasting pumps into that tight hot slick before he pulls out. Material, a marbled mix of gold and purple, oozes right onto that expensive couch cushion.

Neither of them care.

Sollux can't even process that he was just used as an animate fleshlight, bleary-eyed as he peers up at Eridan, who looks just as much a mess as him. His hair is curling down into his face, unkempt, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, lips parted as he breathes heavy. Those fins are so expressive. There's a flutter of them, and there’s this fucked up, goofy snort from the gold in return. 

"Wow." It's breathless, said following his laughter. Everything feels warm.

Eridan’s raising a single brow. "That's all you have to say? I expected details on how eye-openin' that was." There’s a sound from him that's bordering amused, teetering the edge of annoyance just barely.

"Again." Sollux grins in his typical shit-eating manner, and Eridan just looks appalled. 

"What? You gotta be fuckin' jokin'."

Sollux might be in a drugged, hazy stupor, but the one thing he manages is to reach up with searching fingers, curl them into Eridan’s shirt, and drag him into a kiss, and the violet, following some reluctance, melts into him like a puzzle piece. As long as he's drowning in him, pulling him in deep, falling into the hole of bad decisions and dubious choices, being fucked up alone is far off on the horizon.

Eridan decides another round can't hurt.


End file.
